


After Hours

by crossingwinter



Series: The Stripper AU No One Asked For [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: (to quote cards against humanity), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, the thin veneer of situational causality that underlies porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter





	After Hours

“You coming?”

Arya looks up to find Hot Pie leaning up against the wall of her cubicle, an eager smile on his face.

“Hm?”

“It’s Wednesday. Sharna’s.” 

“Oh.  No—not today.”  She glances at the clock in the corner of her computer screen and her eyes practically bug out of her head.  “Shit. I’m late.”

“Late?” Hot Pie looks confused.  “What for?”

“A date,” she replies absentmindedly. 

“A date?” Hot Pie sounds positively perplexed by that piece of news.  “With whom?  And on a Wednesday?”

“He works weekends,” Arya shrugs, saving her work and logging out of her computer.  She unplugs her phone and sees a message from Jon, letting her know that he had arrived safely in Yukon with his wilderness club. She leaves it unread, though, since she doesn’t have time to reply now.

“Yeah—but…who is he?  You haven’t mentioned him before,” Hot Pie asks as she tugs on her coat and swings her purse over her shoulder. 

“He’s a guy.”

“How’d you meet?”

“Through Sansa,” she lies, because there’s no way that she’s telling Hot Pie the truth of that one—not unless Gendry doesn’t care, and she’s pretty sure that he would.  He’s proud.  That much she knows.  And she doesn’t think he’d want her friends to think of him as “the stripper” quite as much as “Arya’s new boyfriend.”

“What’s his name?” asks Hot Pie.

“Gendry,” she replies, “Look—can we do the twenty questions later?  I need to run.”

“Sure.  Sure.  I was just…you know.  Anyway, see you tomorrow.”

She texts Gendry from the road, letting him know that she’s running late, and that she’s sorry, and that work got away from her.  She finds him twenty minutes later, sitting on her stoop, reading a book by the light of the street lamp.

“I’m sorry,” she calls as she gets out of the car.

“No problem,” he shrugs, closing his book.  “You can make it up to me in food and sex.”

“That was the plan,” she replies.  He stands, and she kisses him, even though he’s standing on the steps and she’s not and he has to bend down even more than usual to do it.  She smiles into his lips as his tongue sweeps over hers and one of his hands comes to her shoulder while the other rests on her hip, though the book is between them. 

“Good day?” she asks him when they break apart.

“Well enough.  I got to work on a Porsche so that’s cool.  Also—I swapped shifts for next week so I now have Monday off, which will be nice.”

“That’ll be very nice,” she agrees and steps past him to unlock the door.

“Yeah—I was thinking so.  It makes options for Sunday a lot more…” he pauses.  “You want to do things Sunday?”

Arya snorts.  “Things?”

“Movies?  Or—I don’t know, go on a walk?  Or see a ball game.  Something, though.”

“Sure.  That sounds fun.  Pick something and let me know where to go.”

“Great,” he grins. 

She likes his smile.  She _really_ likes his smile, the way that his whole face seems to light up when he’s grinning and the way that his blue eyes seem to glitter in his face.  She kisses him again as he closes the door, and he drops his book to the ground so he can hold her close to him.

“I’m assuming you’re busy again this weekend, yeah?” she asks. 

He jerks a nod and goes to hang up his coat.  “Yeah—I have two gigs,” he’s not looking at her.  “Friday and Saturday.  We could do stuff during the day Saturday, but I figure Sunday would sort of have to be the date night.”

“Either’s good.  Both’s good.  Whatever you like.”

He lets out a sigh.  “You don’t have to walk on tiptoes around it, you know?”

“I know,” she replies, “But you get mad when it comes up.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” he says dryly.  Then he shrugs. “I’m not mad at you, for what that’s worth.”

“I know,” she says.  “Still—I…” she blushes.

They haven’t been dating for too long—hardly a month at this point, though longer if you count Gendry’s dancing at Sansa’s bachelorette party, and the two subsequent conversations—which Arya is never sure whether to count.  Still—it seems…she’s not sure…it seems clingy to say that she wants to see him more, that she wants to spend more time with him, that he could give her a list of times and she’d meet him for all of them.

His schedule is crazier than hers is.  He works two jobs at inconsistent hours, and Arya’s nine to five is more like an eight to seven sometimes.  And days when he’s on the other end of her time-card always seem to go faster, somehow.

“What’s with your face?” he asks her.

“I just wish I could see you more,” she mutters, looking away.

He doesn’t say a word, but he wraps his arms around her again and she smells a little bit of oil from the garage, and the slight scent of sweat that he always has when he’s come from that work.

“Yeah—me too,” he says and he tilts her chin up and kisses her.

She loves the feeling of his lips against hers, gentle and insistent, the way he sucks her bottom lip in between his teeth, the way that he seems to breathe into her when his mouth is on hers.  She lets her hands slip around his waist, lets her fingers rest on the waistband of his jeans and holds herself against his chest, kissing him, raised slightly on her toes as she does, because feeling as though she might lose balance while kissing him makes everything better.

He breaks the kiss, bringing his lips up to the spot between her eyebrows and holding her there for a moment.  “Things are better on days when I see you,” he says.  “I wish it happened more.”

“So then if we both want that, why don’t we do it more?”

He guffawed and nudged his pelvis forward into hers, and she rolled her eyes.  “That’s not what I meant, idiot.”  He’s smirking though, those lovely lips curled in a smile that looks somewhere between wicked and bemused and she kisses him once again and says, “Well?”

“Well…” the smile fades momentarily, “I…would that be taking things…I don’t know.  Too fast?”

Arya snorts.  “Gendry—we met because you were dancing naked at my sister’s bachelorette party.  I don’t know how that fits into the trajectory of normal relationships.” He doesn’t blush, but he does look away, wrinkling his nose slightly.  “Besides—my understanding is that people use the excuse ‘too fast’ when they’re not actually that into one another, and my understanding is that we’re that into one another.  True?”

His eyes are back on hers, and he grins.  “Yeah—I’d say that’s true.”

“So then—I don’t see a problem.  Because the feeling is mutual.”  And she kisses him again, dipping her fingers below his waistband, underneath his boxers and squeezing the flesh of his ass.  He sighs into her mouth, his tongue rubbing up and down hers while his hand finds the zip of her skirt and tugs it so that the skirt pools at her ankles.

“Dinner?” she asks, bemusedly, her lips only just leaving his.

“Are the two mutually exclusive?” he asks and he smacks her lightly on the ass.  She hisses and finds the fly of his jeans and undoes it, tugging them down his legs.

Gendry lets out a snort.  Looking down, she sees his boxers had come down with his jeans, and his cock is half-hard.

“Not,” he teased, “That I’m complaining, or anything, but—” he inhales sharply because Arya has sunk to her knees and taken him into her mouth—largely because she wanted to see how he would react, but also because she just plain felt like it.

Gendry has a big cock, and the arrogance that tends to accompany those with such an endowment.  He also has a tendency to get weirdly gentlemanly about her going down on him, which Arya has never understood.  When she tries to suck him off, he usually pulls away after a moment, or shifts around so that she can’t reach him anymore, or distracts her through other means of some sort.  Arya’s half convinced that he does this because he doesn’t like the idea of making her jaw go stiff as she sucks, but she thinks that’s stupid because honestly—that would happen with a smaller cock too.

But with her on her knees in front of him, there’s no shifting he can do, nothing he can reach to distract her, and she takes him into her mouth, wrapping one hand around his shaft and the other reaching down and cupping his balls.  It takes a full ten seconds for him to be fully hard in her mouth, and she smiles around his head while she licks a circle over his glans and she hears him mutter, “fuck, Arya,” somewhere above him. 

His hands come to her hair, weaving through it, pulling it loose from its pony-tail as his hips begin to pump in and out, driving his cock not so much down her throat as against the soft skin of her cheek, moaning as she rubs her hands over his balls, hefting them slightly, squeezing and releasing and playing, all while she tongues the bundle of nerves on the underside of his cock where the head and shaft met.

She knows he’s coming before he does, feeling the way that his balls tighten in her palms, the way that something like a pulse, but not quite the same throbs in his cock, tickling her lips before he cries out and she tastes a bitter salty mixture in her mouth, spurting out of his tip as he shivers and shudders, holding her head in his hands until his cock is done and his aftershocks have worn away.  He releases her and staggers back slightly, letting his back hit the wall behind him.  His eyes are still closed, so he doesn’t see her swallow, and lick her lips or the way she stands and presses her lips to the spot where his neck and jaw meet.

“I thought that wasn’t what you meant when you said ‘do it more’?” Gendry breathes into her ear.  She hits him lightly on the shoulder and he chuckles, holding her close to him for a moment.  She feels his cock beginning to go slack between them and is quite proud of herself for getting him off so quickly.  She smiles.  She knows him well enough by now that he’ll be trying to make that up to her the entire night.

“Dinner?” she asks quietly, and he nods.  He kicks his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off and follows her into the kitchen, watching her as she prances around in underwear and button-down shirt, finding utensils with which to begin chopping vegetables.

“Want help?”

“Only if you’re feeling useless,” she says.  She bends down, knowing that it will give him a good view of her ass and fishes out her wok and a moment later, his hands are on her hips, fingers massaging gentle circles onto her ass.

“I don’t like feeling useless,” he whispers.

“Good.  You can chop onions,” she says, standing, turning, and beaming up at him.

He rolls his eyes.  “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“We seem to keep missing one another’s points, don’t we?” she teases.  She takes him by the waist and turns him towards the cutting board.  “I promise you, if we can eat first, you’ll have plenty of time to show me just how not-useless you are.”

He sighs.  “I’d say you’re no fun, but…well…I think you just proved how not true that is.”

“Don’t you like how I leave you with no legs to stand on?  Hmm…that could be kinky.”

“For someone who wants dinner so badly, you are having a remarkably difficult time keeping your mind out of the gutter.”

“Good thing we’re making a quick dinner, so that my mind doesn’t have to pull itself out too far.”

She pinches his ass for good measure, then sets about dicing strips of chicken, which she throws into the wok with a little bit of oil and soy sauce.

Gendry eats very slowly, she rather thinks on purpose.  Her plate is completely clear while he’s still sitting there, vegetables and chicken still on his plate. 

“Soy sauce is tasty,” he says.

“That’s true,” Arya replies.

“It is so very good for food, you know?  It just makes it all…better.”  He’s smirking at her—the ass—and pops another piece of chicken into his mouth, chewing slowly.

Arya stretches, letting the buttons over her tits strain slightly as her back arches. 

“Stiff?” Gendry asks.

“A little.  You?” she runs a foot up his leg to his naked cock and nudges it gently.  His eyes go wide in surprise and he inhales sharply and she feels his cock stiffen against her foot.  She smirks. 

“Eh.  Relaxed really. You’ve taken good care of me tonight—a blowjob, delicious dinner.  I mean, you’ve almost made it up to me that you kept me waiting half-an-hour on your stoop.”

“Almost?” Arya asks.

“Unbutton your shirt,” he says and she complies, slipping it down her arms so that it falls between her butt and the chair.

“Ahh.  Much better.”

“You like a show with your dinner?” Arya asks dryly.

“Oh yes.”  He sticks a pepper into his mouth.  “But, then again, I’m the professional on that front, so you’d really have to go above and—” his breath hitches.  Her foot is on his cock again, and she’s rubbing her big toe down his length.  He’s fully hard now.  “beyond.”

“Well,” she says demurely, continuing to rub her toes slowly up and down his cock, which twitches slightly.  She notices he puts more than one chunk of vegetable on his fork this time, and his hand is trembling ever so slightly as he raises it to his mouth. “I don’t really know what sorts of expectations you have—being a professional and all.  But maybe you could guide me?”

“Well,” he says, his mouth full now and she’s sure she’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat, but she doesn’t care at all because she’s winning.  “At some point, the bra comes off.”

“Oh?” she asks, far too innocently.  She reaches up and slips a strap off her shoulder, sliding it down her arm until the cup of the bra is distorted and her breast pops loose.  “Like this?”

His nostrils flare and his cock twitches against her toes and he nods.  She performs a similar motion on the other shoulder, and when the other breast is loose, she reaches behind her back for the clasp.

“No,” he says quickly.  “No—leave it like that.  Pull the straps up again, but leave your tits out.  It’s….”

“Hot?”

“Fucking hell, Arya.”

“Finish your dinner.” She positively leers at him as she raises the straps back up to her shoulder.  Then, while he’s distracted with putting food in his mouth, she shimmies her hips out of her underpants and extracts the leg that’s not on Gendry’s thigh from the cotton.  It will fall away when she stands.

Gendry’s plate is clear and he stands.  “Oh—are you going to do the dishes?  You really don’t have to,” she says too innocently.

“I rather had doing another thing in mind,” he says, glancing significantly down at his cock. 

“Oh—well…” Arya smiles brightly at him.  “I mean—it would be good to clean up in here a bit.”

“Arya,” he whines slightly, and she laughs. 

“It’s now or never.  If you like, you can sit there and rub off a bit while I do it.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”   He sits back down, eyes on hers, daring her to move.  It’s not really a dare, she supposes as she stands and collects their plates to put in the dishwasher.

“When did your panties come off?” he sputters as she crosses the kitchen.

“Oh—during dinner,” she replies mildly, bending over so he gets a clear view of her cunt as she puts the plates and forks into the dish washer.  Then, she squirts soap into the wok and scrubs it for a minute, setting it into the dish rack.  When she’s done, she turns around and finds that Gendry has left the kitchen completely.

She rolls her eyes before noticing his shirt on the floor of the doorway.  She steps out into the living room, but sees no sign of him.  But as she makes her way across to the bedroom, his arms are around her, his lips on her neck, his cock hard against her ass, and he’s breathing heavily, his hands on her breasts, cupping them, running fingers along the undersides, just along where the underwire of her bra is keeping her breasts supported even as they are bared to him.

“You’re saucy,” he murmurs into her ear.  “A saucy minx.”

“A soy saucy minx?”

He stops.  “No.  Never say that.  Just no.”

She cackles slightly and makes to turn around and kiss him, but his hands are on her shoulders and he’s walking her over to the couch and she makes to go and settle herself on it, but he pushes her and with a breath of surprise, she finds herself bent over the arm of it, her face pressed against the cushions while Gendry’s hands are running over her ass.

“I like you like this,” he says, drawing a finger up her slit and lets it rest at her entrance.  Arya moans.  “I like you bent over like this.  Not least,” he draws the finger back down, dragging moisture with it and letting it circle her clit, “because the view of your ass is spectacular.”

“What’s the point of having my bra like this if you can’t even see my tits?” she asks him.

“Are you sassing me?”

“Soy sassing?”

“Oh my god stop.”

“Make me,” she grins and a moment later she has three of his fingers in her cunt, curling into her as he pumps them in and out while his thumb finds her clit.  “Oh,” she manages to say before her body seems to heat up and melt, her mind going hazy in the warmth of her blood racing through her, her heart beating faster and faster in her chest as Gendry’s thumb circles, as his fingers straighten and curve and press and prod at her.  She closes her eyes, and exhales shakily as he pumps away, letting her mouth hang open slightly.

Then, his fingers are gone and she makes a plaintive huff even as she feels his hands on her ass again.  The fingers on her left cheek are damp—slick and she smiles because she knows that that means the pressure she feels just outside her entrance now is his cock and when he thrusts in, she yelps slightly—not because he needs reminding of how big his cock is, but because she likes reminding him.

She stretches around him, feeling that, even inside her, his cock tilts slightly to the left—or maybe that’s just the angle he entered in.  It hardly matters.  What matters is that he’s there, that he’s inside her now, and that his breath—both of their breath—is shallow and wanting and that as he pumps into her, her heart pounds every time his cock pulls out and pushes in, sending a familiar and sweet pain from her cervix to her clit.  And every time he strikes that back wall, gently, still, because he knows that it twinges, knows that there’s a fine line between the right kind of pain and the wrong kind, she realizes just how neglected that little nub of flesh feels, because Gendry’s hands are on her ass, and sometimes his balls swing up and strike her clit, but for the most part, it’s throbbing there, wanting, stiff, aching, needing…

“Gendry,” she moans.  “Gendry—I—“

“Hm?  What is it?” he grunts, and he pauses in his thrusting.  Gingerly, Arya pulls away from him and when she turns around, she sees nervousness in his eyes.  She’s never once stopped him, not since they’d started dating.  She sits up and pulls his head down and kisses him, and his tongue is in her mouth almost at once, as though needing to make sure she’s all right.   She smiles into his lips and reaches for his cock, guiding it to her entrance again, then reaching for his hips and pushing him back in.  She sighs.

“I just want to see you,” she whispers, and the smile on his face makes her feel like she’s floating because it’s so sweet, so lovely, so innocent and surprised and happy and horny and everything she wants and when he begins his pumping again, she reaches up and twists her nipples, cups her breasts, lets him watch the way that her breasts bounce on her chest as he thrusts into her, following the movement of his eyes with her own.  And no—his cock is not hitting her at the same angle as before, but that hardly matters because before she reaches casually between her legs as had been her plan, he has two fingers on her clit, and everything is warm—hot again as she lets her head fall back onto the cushions of her couch, her back arched now because it can’t not be with her ass planted on the armrest of the chair, and lets the muscles of her cunt stretch and clench around his cock as he slides in and out of her, grunting, moaning, spurting hot cum into her as he groans and stiffens, his eyes screwed up and his face contorted in pleasure.

She sits up, kissing his chest as she feels his heat inside her, spreading into every part of her.  She licks a bead of sweat off his chest, and when he pulls out of her, he bends down and buries his hands in her hair as their mouths meet in a slow kiss, a deep kiss, the sort of kiss that would take Arya’s breath away if she had any breath left in her body.  He kisses his way across her cheek, down her neck and to her collarbone and only then does he ask, “What do you want?”  His thumb is circling around her clit, and she aches— _aches_ because everything is swollen and wet and hot and wanting and she doesn’t know what she wants beyond wanting Gendry to make her cum so hard she screams.

“Surprise me,” she whispers.

He pushes her back onto the couch, kneels next to her and takes one of her tits into his mouth, nibbling and sucking at the peak of her nipple as he palms her cunt.  She bucks her hips into his hands and he releases her nipple and keeps his hand still.

Arya opens her eyes, and he’s watching her, a curious expression on his face.  Then he gets to his feet, pushes her further along the couch so that her hips are flat and not raised up on the armrest, and buries his face in her cunt.  It’s not a gentle licking either—not sweet or exploratory, or teasing—his tongue is hard against her clit, quick, stiff, circling and— _fuck_ she wasn’t prepared for that, he’d had—his hand—it hadn’t been—it wasn’t focusing quite like— _Jesus_. 

She doesn’t scream.  It hits her too fast, too unexpectedly, wave upon wave of warmth flowing through her as her cunt clamps around nothingness and her clit throbs in Gendry’s mouth.  As if it’s an afterthought, she feels him guide a finger inside her and she grips it as she sinks into the couch, losing all sense of anything except the feel of the tweed under her back, Gendry’s lips on her clit, and the clutching of her cunt to his finger.

When it’s over, she curls over sideways to look at him, her eyes hooded and dry with tiredness.

“You’re good.  I think I shall keep you,” she murmurs.  He kisses her slowly, and she tastes them both on his tongue.

“So long as you keep me fed and satiated, I think that’ll work,” he teases.  Then he picks her up, and carries her into the bedroom.  


End file.
